Days' End
by Annwyd
Summary: In his own memories, Jomy finds a way of giving Soldier Blue solace while he sleeps. Kind of fluffy, and by kind of, I mean it's probably disgustingly so, but that's okay.


As the new Soldier of the Mu, Jomy Marcus Shin had a myriad of responsibilities. He had to look after the children: that wasn't so hard, since he _liked_ them. He had to decide where they'd go next on their search for Terra—that was completely incomprehensible, since he still struggled to understand why Terra was so important to the Mu. But Blue had wanted it, so he did what he could. He had to make peace with the elders, who were still wary of someone as young, new, and brash as him being their leader. That wasn't easy, either. As someone who had never had more responsibility in his life than going through the motions of a pre-programmed childhood, he wasn't really sure what to do.

"Even _that_ responsibility was too much for me!" he protested. "I did whatever I could to disobey and break the rules. How am I going to handle this?"

He was talking to Blue. He was always talking to Blue. In between his duties, he snuck off to the room where Blue slept and knelt with his back to the bed. There he voiced his frustrations, concerns, and even his most petty grievances to the still form in the bed above him. Blue never replied; he was lost in his sleep. Jomy tried not to feel so lonely because of it. Instead, he wondered what Blue would say to him, and he closed his eyes and he thought it inside his head as if Blue were speaking into his mind, carefully shielding the thought from any who might be listening with his newfound skills, so they didn't get mad at him for appropriating their fallen Soldier's voice.

_You'll do fine, Jomy,_ he imagined Blue telling him. _Even when you were a child, you were preparing for this. You weren't just breaking their rules. You were rebelling against their system. Otherwise, how would you have been able to resist when they tried to take your memories?_

"I couldn't have done that without you," Jomy said. "Soldier Blue, please come back."

_Jomy..._ He thought of Blue's voice, patient but weary, apologetic but firm.

"I'm sorry," Jomy said. "I know you're tired. I won't ask you to wake up again. Not like this, anyway." He stood up and squared his shoulders under the cape of the Soldier. "I'm going to go back to taking care of the crew now. I promise I'll do my best. And Blue—I promise that I'll be back."

Jomy made good on his promises. When the Shangri-La's artificial day drew to a close, he himself had the tiniest inkling of how exhausted Soldier Blue must have been after three hundred years of this responsibility. But still, instead of going straight to his room to sleep, he returned to Blue's room. This time, he didn't sit down on the floor against the bed. He wasn't here as a supplicant seeking advice that wouldn't come. Blue wasn't here for him; he was here for Blue.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "When I was a kid," he said, as if that hadn't been only weeks ago, as if he weren't still fourteen, "my mom would sometimes tell me stories before I went to sleep." He rubbed his eyes. He really was tired. But he had to go on. "I don't know if you'd like to hear those stories, since they were just made-up things. Even if they made me feel better...I don't think they're what we need anymore. I'm still going to tell you stories, Blue. But I'm going to tell you stories about my life. The things I did as a kid. The things my mom did for me. The things I felt, even when I wasn't supposed to feel." He took a breath. "I don't know if you'll like them. But I'll try to find ones that would make you smile if you heard them."

Jomy pictured Blue waiting expectantly, as he himself had once waited with the covers half-pulled up to his chest, listening to his mother's voice. And so he began to tell Blue all the things about himself he'd never gotten the chance to before Blue had fallen asleep. He talked about going to Dreamland with his parents and about playing with Sam and Suena. He talked about little things like his mother's cooking and big things like how he'd felt about his adulthood examination.

He came back every night to tell Blue more. Eventually, he ran out of things about himself to tell. So he began to bring new stories as well. He was serious when told Blue about how they were still searching for Terra, but he was starting to think that they should try to talk to the humans, too. He laughed when he told Blue about how Carina and the rest of the children who had first greeted him on the Shangri-La were growing up.

Every night, when Jomy finally found himself breathless and too sleepy himself to continue, he got up from his seat on the bed. Then he leaned over Blue and checked the blankets. He fussed with them a little, making sure that Blue was secure beneath them. He didn't think Blue moved in his sleep, but he still didn't want the blankets falling down and letting him get cold. So every night, he tucked Blue in again.

Sometimes, when he tucked Blue in, he found himself looking extra closely at Blue's serene face, the eyes shut, the expression passive and inscrutable. Once in a while, he thought he could see that the corners of Blue's mouth were curved up just a little, as if he were smiling, and maybe there were the slightest hints of pleased lines at the corner of his eyes.

Jomy could have been imagining it, he knew. But still, it was enough to make it all worthwhile.


End file.
